


Picky

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: I don't write enough of this dynamic between them, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 06:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15480138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: Madara enjoys learning new things about Tobirama, if only so that he has something new to tease him with.





	Picky

Tobirama was going to get them both in trouble if he kept making that face. Granted, the way his nose wrinkled ever so slightly was kind of adorable, but even if he disliked what the daimyo was saying so much he should still know better than to show it so visibly. Doing his best to keep his version of a pleasantly interested expression on his face, Madara lightly jerked his foot against his companion’s ankle across the fancy dinner table. Tobirama looked up at him with a frown.

“What?” he hissed, lowering his voice so that only Madara could hear him.

“You’re doing it again. What’s your problem? He’s just talking about increasing crop revenues, what are you even disagreeing with?”

Instead of explaining himself, Tobirama deepened his scowl and looked down at the plate of food he had barely touched. Madara wondered if he wasn’t just feeling ill. As shinobi they both had large appetites – it took a lot of calories to build as much muscle as their line of work required – but he hadn’t seen his mission partner eat more than a few tiny bites of the vegetable curry they had been served for dinner. It was a worrisome thought, actually. If Tobirama was ill then he wouldn’t be on top of his game later when they spoke with the figurehead of the Fire Nation to request more funding.

Both of them returned their attention to the daimyo and his longwinded speech. As they listened, however, Madara allowed himself to peek over at his companion every couple of minutes when he was sure no one was looking, checking to see if the other man was still making those faces.

He was.

It struck him as slightly off behavior. Tobirama was a well-trained diplomat, much better versed in the intricacies of social behavior than his elder brother, so it was strange to see him being so obvious about his personal feelings for someone. Madara didn’t think much of their weak-minded Lord either but at least he wasn’t making scrunched up faces just listening to the man talk. Even he knew that would be considered childish and uncouth behavior.

The mystery was solved when he happened to glance over just as Tobirama brought his chopsticks to his bowl for another tiny bite. He watched the man dip the utensils in to his food and dig through it like he was looking for something in particular, his nose wrinkling again as he pushed a large piece of water chestnut off to one side, nostrils flaring with distaste when he shoved a sizable chunk of yellow pepper away as well. A look of relief appeared in his eyes as he excavated a small piece of mushroom and deposited it in to his mouth, chewing happily until he looked up and saw Madara watching him with a great deal of amusement.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to play with your food?” Madara asked in a whisper.

“She taught me if I didn’t have anything nice to say that I should shut my mouth.”

“You didn’t learn that lesson very well, did you?”

“Fuck off and let me eat.”

Madara snorted softly, trying not to draw attention. “I would if I thought you might actually eat some of it instead of shoving it around your plate like a pouty child.”

“I said _fuck off_.”

Straightening his back and tensing his shoulders in the way he always did when he was getting defensive, Tobirama glared and very pointedly dug his chopsticks deep in to his bowl, pulling out a large portion of curry to shove it all in his mouth at once. He managed to chew three times before his entire face pinched and his eyes squeezed shut in a manner that sent Madara back some fifteen years in time. Suddenly he was sitting at the dinner table in his childhood home watching Izuna try something new for the first time and spitting it back out because it was ‘yucky’.

“Oh sweet sage,” he murmured, glee rising up and brightening his entire face. “You’re not grumpy over whatever he’s talking about. You don’t like your food! You’re _picky_!”

“I hate yellow peppers,” Tobirama hissed, spraying rice over the table and looking twice as disgusted.

“Amazing. Just amazing. This is great.”

“Shut up, Uchiha.”

“What else don’t you like in there? I see you’re not eating your chestnuts either. What, they don’t suit your snooty taste?”

If looks could kill Tobirama’s glare would have struck him down as the man drew himself up impossibly straighter and ground out between clenched teeth, “I don’t like the texture of them, for your information. It makes my skin crawl.”

“Remind me to stock up on water chestnuts when we get home. I’ll carry some around with me wherever I go and then you’ll never bother me about my reports again.” Madara snickered, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. It only got worse when he saw Tobirama look down at his plate again with a look akin to a man marching to his doom.

“Only if you remind me to slip a few snakes in to your office again.”

“That _was_ you! I _hate_ snakes!”

“Yes, I know you do.”

Now they both glared at each other, utterly consumed with their own little world until they were jerked back out of it by a half-familiar voice called out Madara’s name. He whipped his head around to find the daimyo – and everyone else as well – staring straight at him.

“Ah, my lord?”

“I asked if everything was well, Uchiha-san.”

“Our sincerest apologies, my lord, but it seems as if, ah, my partner here has fallen ill. I believe he…ate something he disagreed with.” Madara did his best to imitate the innocent face which he’d seen Kagami use so many times to worm his way out of trouble. Whether it was that or his words, one of them seemed to be effective as the daimyo’s expression turned sympathetic.

Madara did his best not to react to the foot which kicked him under the table. Just this once he would have to allow his partner a fair retaliation.

“Perhaps it would be best if you retired for the evening, Senju-san? We would not wish for any of our loyal subjects to fall ill at our table.” The man at the head of the room clapped his hands and two servants rushed forward to remove Tobirama’s dishes. He was pompous and overly puffed up with his own importance but he was also gracious to those who served him. One could ask for little more from those in power.

“That is infinitely kind of you,” Tobirama murmured, clearly mortified to have to leave. Several other important figures were present, representatives from other clans or noble lords of the capital city, and many of them were already whispering to each other.

“I believe I should accompany him,” Madara heard his own voice say. “If my lord does not mind?”

“Of course, of course. We look forward to your companion’s better health.”

Both of them nodded politely and made their way from the dining hall side by side. Tobirama was already pale enough that he had no need to play up the image of illness as they walked the ten minute journey back to their rooms. He did make sure to lessen his normally perfect posture while Madara made a passing attempt at looking concerned.

The moment they were alone in their shared quarters with the door closed behind them Madara found himself shoved roughly up against the closest wall. It wasn’t exactly unexpected, though, and he schooled himself to be still as Tobirama shoved their faces close together with an irritable growl.

“Ate something I disagreed with?” he demanded. Madara smirked.

“Do you think anyone else caught my phrasing?”

“I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Knowing an apology would be little more than useless words, Madara opted for a tactic which had yet to fail him. His tongue traced along his bottom lip, waiting until Tobirama’s eyes dropped to watch its progress, then he tilted his head to the side and forward so that he could drag it against the stubble coming in on his lover’s chin.

“Because I let you play around with all those _filthy_ fantasies you have. Naughty. What would your brother say if he knew just how depraved his little Tobi really is?”

“How many times have I told you not to talk about Hashirama and sex in the same sentence?” Despite the irritation clear in his voice, he still pressed himself forward until their bodies were flush against each other. “I hate you,” he groaned as the tongue lapping at his jaw turned to gentle nibbles. Madara chuckled against him.

“No you don’t.”

“Hmph.”

Moving upwards to take the other man’s earlobe between his teeth, Madara suckled gently before pulling away to murmur against a tattooed cheek. “How is it that I didn’t know you were such a picky eater?”

“Because you are woefully unobservant.”

“I resent that.”

“Last week I disposed of half of that concoction you made for dinner without you even noticing. You added _eggplant_. Ugh.”

“That was expensive! It was imported! And you threw it out!?” Madara jerked his head back to stare at the other incredulously, irritated when he received a prissy little huff in return.

“You seemed to like it. I moved it all on to your plate.”

Somewhat mollified by that, Madara tilted his head in thought. “Oh. That would explain why I feel like I’ve been eating more lately. Very sneaky; I almost approve. Tell me, what other things should I avoid?”

“Do you want the entire list?” Tobirama asked him dryly.

“You’re _that_ picky? I thought it would just be a few things!” Amusement returned, along with the image of a younger Izuna sticking out his tongue in protest of what he had just eaten. “Well I’ll be damned. Senju Tobirama has the palate of a child!”

“I am not a child! As you well know!”

“Mm, yes, I can feel that.” Madara winked as he rolled his hips just enough to rub their lower bodies against each other in some interesting ways.

He was foiled, however, when Tobirama pulled away with a roll of his eyes.

“Well you can forget about _that_ ,” he murmured, turning and heading for the door leading to the bathroom. Madara gaped after him. It was just a bit of teasing, he hadn’t expected the other to take it so poorly.

Although he really should have, actually. He knew exactly how easy it was to offend his lover.

Rather than wallow in apologetic sympathy or even contemplate the idea of fixing the bad mood he had created, Madara allowed a slow, evil grin to cross his face. He had all the ammo he needed now to get back at Tobirama for that incident with the snakes. When they got back home he was going to have a long talk with Hashirama about his brother’s eating habits. Dinner time was _war_ time now.


End file.
